


the soul you used to be

by anakien



Series: Ghost [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Gen, ghost au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-01
Updated: 2017-07-01
Packaged: 2018-11-22 01:03:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11369328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anakien/pseuds/anakien
Summary: Ezra had always been unnoticeable. It was a fact that hadn't changed until The Grand Inquisitor came to Lothal.





	the soul you used to be

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from the song _Ghost_ by Halsey. Noticing a theme? 
> 
> This is Ezra's backstory. Hope it's not too sad for y'all. 
> 
> Enjoy.

Ezra's always been unnoticeable. It was just a fact of life; after his parents' deaths, nobody wanted to be seen affiliating with a Loth-Rat, especially not after the stormtroopers had arrived. It was a fact that had never changed; at least, it hadn't until the Grand Inquisitor came to Lothal. 

For the most part, Ezra minds his business. He doesn't make a habit of stealing from the stormtroopers - only when they rip off the shopkeepers. (And now that he thinks about it, it happens more than he realizes). He avoids the Empire, and the Empire pretends not to see the hundreds of kids scattered all over the streets.

It's his seventh year of living on the streets, and Ezra likes to think he's got a pretty good grasp on the unspoken rules and routine of it, but every year it always surprises him with how harshly winter hits. 

It doesn't snow on Lothal, but it stills get really cold, and the dust makes scavenging among the farms near impossible. Food prices rocket up, and every shopkeeper is on high alert for thieves that would hurt their chances of a profit before the winter holidays. 

It's always bad, but this year is worse. 

Ezra's not really sure how long it's been since he's truly eaten, and his fingers and toes have been numb and faintly blue for days. The dust and the wind have made it too hard to get back out to his tower, and he's had to bunker down in his old house for shelter. It's still freezing, and the memories of his parents are overwhelming, but at least it keeps the wind off, and he thinks he can hold out until the dust storms stop. 

He never expected for the Empire to show up. 

He hides in the rafters, slingshot at the ready, but his hands are shaking so badly he knows he won't be able to aim well. His teeth chatter, and he's pretty sure you can hear him from Coruscant itself; he clamps his jaw shut and folds down on himself even more, scarcely daring to breath. 

The troopers kick down the door and march in, and he shoots at two of them, managing to hit one in the thigh, before this eerie feeling grips him and he is raised into the air. 

"What the-" he curses and almost drops his slingshot in the process, but he is slowly lowered to be at eye level with an alien he's never seen before. He struggles to break free of the invisible grip, but it only seems to tighten around his stomach. 

"You must be Ezra Bridger," the alien sneers, and Ezra fights the grip even harder. 

"What's it to you?" Ezra says, tilting his chin in the air to fake a mask of bravado. "Who are you?" The alien smirks, and they both know he can see right through it. 

"I am the Inquisitor," the alien says, and Ezra can't fight the chills that run down the base of his spine. "And you, boy, are going to come with me." 

Desperate, Ezra fumbles for his slingshot and aims for the Inquisitor, but the Inquisitor holds up a hand and the bolt halts midair. Ezra gulps, and the Inquisitor lets it drop to the ground. He narrows his eyes.

"Prepare him for transport," the Inquisitor says, turning towards the trooper standing next to him. Ezra bites, kicks, and screams as they surround him, but the trooper brandishes a syringe and jabs it in the side of his neck. 

The last thing he sees before he passes out are the Inquisitor's yellow eyes staring coldly down at him. 

\---

When Ezra wakes, he's lying in a bed in what looks like a hospital room, and he's warm for the first time all winter. He jumps up from the bed and whips his head around, trying to find an escape route. There's only one door, and no access panel to open it from the inside. Ezra bangs a fist on it, dread pooling in his stomach. 

He steps back, looks down at himself. He's in an all black uniform, and when he pats around for his slingshot, it's gone. So are his three backup knives, and the scanty amount of coins he had. A spot on his arm twinges, and when he takes a closer look at it, it looks like they've taken blood. He rubs it, and there's a small square lump underneath. 

_Is that a tracker?_ Ezra thinks, absolutely horrified. He swallows, backs back up to the bed, where he sits against it waiting for someone to come in and tell him what the kriff is going on. 

He doesn't know how long he waits, but he can feel it the moment someone stands outside - the hair on the back of his neck sticks up, and this weird sixth sense he's always had triggers alarm bells in his head. It makes his skin crawl. 

The door slides open, and the Inquisitor walks in, and Ezra sits up straight, narrowing his eyes. 

"Why am I here?" he spits. "What did you do to me?" 

The Inquisitor folds his arms behind his back, watches him evenly. "I would like to make a deal with you, boy," he says. 

Ezra narrows his eyes into slits and remains silent, refusing to participate. 

"You have the Force," the Inquisitor says, "the potential to be of great use to the Empire. To be a great warrior wielding more power than you can ever imagine." 

Ezra spits at him, and the glob lands near his shiny black boots. "I will _never_ work with the Empire!"

The Inquisitor narrows his eyes, but otherwise ignores his outburst, continues on with his spiel. "Through the Dark Side, and through the training I will personally afford you, you will never be on the streets again." 

"No!" Ezra cries, grits his teeth. "The Empire killed my parents. I will never work with them! Or with you!"

The Inquisitor narrows his eyes, and it seems he finally struck a nerve. "Your parents are not dead, boy," he growls, and for some funny reason Ezra can tell that he's being truthful. His eyes grow wide, and he looks at the ground in shock. "But if you refuse to cooperate, they will be." 

Ezra swallows, dizzy, feeling like the ground is going to swallow him up. He looks up, brow furrowed. 

"It's your choice, boy," the Inquisitor says. "You join me, or I will personally guarantee your parents' deaths." 

Ezra takes a deep breath. He doesn't like this at all, and when he meets the eyes of the Inquisitor, the Inquisitor sneers, knowing he's won. "What do I have to do?" Ezra asks, resigned. 

The Inquisitor smiles.

\---

"Higher!" The Inquisitor snaps, and Ezra grits his teeth, lifting the staff higher. 

His partner, Zare, gives him a sympathetic look, schooling his gaze into apathy only when the Inquisitor stalks in front of them. 

Ezra _hates_ training. It's not that bad so far, for him at least. But just the knowledge that he can't do anything but play along while his parents are locked up in some prison somewhere drives him crazy. The Inquisitor watches him more carefully than the others, holds him to a higher standard. It must have to do with that Force thing the Inquisitor mentioned, even though he hasn't brought it up since. It's not that big of a deal, really, because it means Ezra isn't one of the ones walking away from training every day with bruises and burns from taking a beating. 

Well, scratch that. The one day he tried to stop the Inquisitor from hurting another cadet is the only day the Inquisitor turned on him, and he ended up staggering away with two tiny burns on his cheek. It's almost like he could sense what the Inquisitor was about to do before he did it, and he jumped in and pushed the cadet out of the way before the lightsaber could fall. 

"Don't test me, boy," the Inquisitor snarled after that, staring down at Ezra, crumpled on the ground with a hand cupping his cheek. "The Empire might have plans for you, but we could always find somebody else. And then what would happen to your precious parents?"

Ezra got the point. 

The other cadets have avoided him after that, except for Zare. 

\---

"My sister," Zare says one night, when all the lights are out and they're positive they are alone, "The Inquisitor took her for special training, too. Something about the Force, a lot like you. Haven't seen her since. The Empire claims she ran away, but my mom and I don't believe that." 

"Why are you here, then?" Ezra asks. "When you disappear, who will your mom have?" 

"I'm not going to," Zare promises. "And you? Why are you here?" 

"The Empire has my parents," Ezra tells him, and he feels the familiar fluttering of rage deep in his belly.

Zare presses his lips into a line, punches his shoulder. "Not for long, they won't," he says, and he grins. 

Ezra feels one of his own grin back. 

\--- 

The Inquisitor's expression grows more and more satisfied with each passing day, and it makes Ezra nervous. 

"We don't have long," Zare promises. "Tomorrow." 

Ezra agrees, but something in his stomach doesn't sit quite right, and something tingles in the back of his mind. For the first time in a long time that night, he prays to whoever is listening. 

\--- 

They thought their plan was foolproof. Steal the explosives from the trooper cadet training hall, place them all over the make-shift Inquisitorius during a 'stealth training' session, and detonate during mess hall so they could steal information from the Inquisitor's office and break out. 

Ezra's not really sure what happened, or why Zare triggered the explosions early. They were supposed to meet up first, make sure they were clear from the blast. All Ezra knows is that he was still in the training hall with the Inquisitor when they got caught in the blast, and the next thing he knows he's standing outside the center without a scratch on him. He's not really sure how he made it out alive. 

"Help!" Ezra shouts, and he staggers from the training center as fast as he can go. He can feel the heat of the flames as the place goes down on the back of his neck, searing it, and he coughs, waving a hand in front of his face from the smoke. "Someone, please!" 

He almost trips and stumbles forward, pressing a hand against a building wall to steady himself. He turns and looks over his shoulder; the training center is invisible under the bright orange flames licking up the sides. He can hear sirens in the distance, and he kicks up running again. 

He makes his way to the main strip of shops and runs down to the first one on the left. People are standing and staring in the direction of the fire, pointing and eyeing the building warily. 

"Please," Ezra begs the shopkeeper. "My friend is in there!" 

The shopkeeper ignores him, stares through him to the customer standing behind. 

"Hey!" Ezra says again, angrily this time. He smacks a hand on the counter, rattling the rickety old stand. "You gotta help me!" 

Nothing. 

Ezra backs away, eyes wide, and runs to a group of Rodians gossiping in the street. He tries to grab one of their arms, and his hand goes right through it. 

"Wha-?" Ezra staggers back, feeling bile rise up in his throat. He can feel the blood slowly drain from his face, but he pushes himself up and goes on to the next person. 

Nobody can see him, and when someone walks through him the first time, his panic grows even more, and he _knows_ he's about to majorly freak out. He can hear his breath growing shriller and shriller with each passing person. 

He sees another group of two humans and an alien he's never seen before turn onto the street, laughing and talking amiably, and he runs up to them. 

"Please," he all but begs, grabbing the alien's hand, "you gotta help me!" 

The alien blinks and looks down at him, then at where he's grabbing his arm. "You talking to me, kid?" 

Ezra feels like crying, relief welling up inside of him, threatening to bubble over. "Yeah," he says, and it sounds more like a sob. 

The alien's ears flatten against his head, and he half turns away from Ezra to the people looking at the stalls a few yards back. 

"Kanan? We got a situation on our hands." 

Ezra watches, bouncing on the balls of his feet, as a tall, bearded man wearing a set of really strange looking brown robes and a girl with bright blue and orange hair with a sword and a huge grey poncho over silver armor walk up. They both look at Ezra with mirrored expressions of confusion. 

"Please," Ezra says again. "You gotta help me; I think my friend's in there!" He jabs a finger over his shoulder in the vague direction of the smoke, and he sees the alien exchange a knowing look with the girl. 

The man's expression shifts, softens almost into sadness, until he's looking at Ezra with something akin to pity. 

"Take us there," the man says, and the girl turns and looks at him sharply. 

"But Kanan! He's-" 

"I know," the man - Kanan, apparently - says, "but he doesn't." 

Ezra turns and runs for the direction of the training center, ducking past the growing crowds of people standing in the streets and down several alley ways for shortcuts. 

He skids to a stop in front of the training center and swipes a hand over his mouth. He can hear the others come up somewhere behind him. 

The center is still smoldering, ashy and black and a burnt out shell of what it used to be. The roof's collapsed, and there are several patrols of troopers and his fellow cadets standing there watching the ashes, lost. The fire patrol has the hose turned on the last flames burning.

"Zare," Ezra says, devastated, and he just _knows_ Zare didn't make it out alive. 

He turns around, shoulders slumping, and faces the crew. 

"I'm sorry, kid," Kanan says, and Ezra's shoulders fall even more. He and the alien exchange a long look. 

"This was the Inquisitor's training center," the girl says, and Kanan stiffens, eyes roving over Ezra with a newfound apprehension, taking in the uniform, the burns on his cheek. "Who blew it up?" 

"I did," Ezra says, and everyone stares. He can feel the hot press of tears welling up in his eyes, and he sniffs loudly, trying to cover it. "Me and Zare did." 

"Zare?" The girl asks, and the alien elbows her swiftly in the side, giving her a look that says just what happened to Zare. "Oh," she says, more subdued this time.

"I think you need to come with us," Kanan says, and Ezra turns and looks behind at the wreckage again. 

"Why should I?" he asks. "I don't even know who you are."

"Would you rather try going back to those others who can't even see you?" The alien grunts, and Ezra blinks. 

"How did you-" 

Kanan's got that sad expression on his face again. "What's your name, kid?" 

"Ezra."

"Ezra," Kanan says, trying it out. "Well, Ezra, I'm Kanan, and this is Sabine and Zeb. I think we need to talk." 

\--- 

So that's how Ezra ends up trailing behind Kanan on his way back to his ship. The Ghost, apparently. Ezra's not quite sure why Kanan laughs when he says the name. 

It's dark inside the ship, and when they get inside they're greeted by a feisty orange astromech who beeps at Ezra suspiciously and a green twi'lek in an old-fashioned brown leather pilot's outfit, goggles and all. 

"Kanan, did you get Chop's batteries?" The twi'lek says, leaning down the ladder, and then she stops when she sees Ezra. "Oh," she says neutrally. "Who's this?" 

"Ezra, Hera, Hera, Ezra," Kanan says. Ezra tries to smooth out his uniform some, eyeing the droid shiftily. "Ezra's like us now." 

Hera's gaze becomes sympathetic. "Oh," she says, and this time it's in understanding. 

"Like you?" Ezra says, annoyed, tilting his head to the side. "You know, you keep saying that, and I still have no idea what you mean." 

Hera raises an eyebrow and turns to look at Kanan. "You didn't tell him?" Sabine and Zeb come around to the right, prop themselves up against the wall. Sabine mutters something about popcorn for this, and Zeb snickers. 

"Tell me what?" 

Kanan opens his mouth and closes it again. He glances over at Zeb and Sabine. "A little help here?" 

Sabine snorts, and Zeb rolls his shoulders. "You're dead, kid." 

Ezra blinks. "What?" He turns and looks at Kanan, brow furrowed. "But I made it out of the training center! See, I'm not even scratched!" He holds out his arms, wrist up. 

Hera's giving him sad eyes now, too. Even Sabine is looking at him with pity, and Ezra turns away, suddenly angry. 

"No," he says, backing up and shaking his head. "I don't believe it. You're wrong!" 

"Kid," Zeb says. "Nobody would look at you, right? Just us. And that's only because we're all dead, too." 

"But..."

"There's no life support on The Ghost," Hera says quietly. "You wouldn't be able to breath right now if you were alive." 

Ezra can't help the little whimper that comes out, and he sniffs. "But.. I don't want to be dead," he says. "I was supposed to go back and rescue my parents." 

Hera brushes past Kanan and puts a hand on his shoulder. "Your parents?" 

"The Inquisitor told me that they were still alive. I was going to get them back!" He frowns, slumps his shoulders. "How am I supposed to do that now?" 

Hera turns and looks over her shoulder at Kanan. He nods, and she grins at him. "I think we might be able to help with that."

**Author's Note:**

> R&R.


End file.
